


Goodnight, My Number One Crush

by strawbry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snowed In, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, haha punch me, more like Rained In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbry/pseuds/strawbry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The second he sees Stiles, he freezes. Stiles is spread out naked all over the length of the bed, head flung back and eyes shut, fingers lightly circling the base of his cock. A spike of lust catches Derek in the chest and he slumps softly against the doorframe, hyperaware of everything around him. He hears the jackrabbit beating of Stiles’ heart, the hitching of Stiles’ breath as he massages the head of his cock, <em>god<em></em></em>, he smells like sex and Derek can tell that he’s leaking pre-come everywhere."</p><p>or,<br/>Stiles' car breaks down in the rain and he spends the night in Derek's guest bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight, My Number One Crush

It’s raining. Derek sighs and gets out of his car. He trudges up the steps and unlocks the front door of his house, ready to sink down into bed and go to sleep.

"Derek, wait!" a familiar voice calls out behind him. He turns to see Stiles sprinting down the sidewalk towards him, one arm outstretched.

"What."

"Well jeez, don't sound so excited," Stiles pants, jogging to a halt in front of the door. Closer up to the porch light now, Derek can see Stiles' cheeks, pink with exertion, and the rain soaking through his clothes and dripping down onto the ground. His mind immediately conjures up an image of Stiles writhing beneath him on his bed, desperately grinding up onto Derek's body, a ruddy blush staining his neck and chest and a glistening sheen of sweat on his temples— _fuck_. Derek clenches his jaw.

"What do you want, Stiles? It’s almost midnight," he grinds out.

"Um, so I was driving through this area and my car broke down and nobody is picking up my calls and I didn't know what to do so can I stay here until I can get my car fixed in the morning," Stiles blurts out in one breath.

A silence descends as Derek furrows his brows, trying to process what Stiles is saying. Stiles fidgets and self-consciously rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry, never mind—“

“No, come in,” Derek interrupts.

“Yes!” Stiles pumps his fists in the air. “Dude, you’re the best, thank you, I won’t bother you, I promise.”

Derek raises his eyebrows and steps to the side to let Stiles in. “Go change. You’re dripping all over my floor.”

“Wait, woah, I don’t have any other clothes to change into, though,” Stiles protests. “I just need a towel, probably. Maybe two towels. Wait.” Stiles squints at him suspiciously, reaching out to poke his chest. “You’re being way too nice to me. This feels so wrong.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Just go pick out some clean clothes from my closet,” he says. “You can stay in the guest room. Bathroom’s across the hall.” He desperately attempts to avoid thinking about Stiles showering and sleeping in his house, in his clothes. He unconsciously lets out a possessive growl that Stiles mistakes it for annoyance.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Seriously though, thanks, Derek.” Stiles smiles at him and Derek lifts an arm noncommittally in response as Stiles turns and walks away.

 _Fuck_ , Derek thinks, scrubbing his hands over his face, before sighing and heading to bed.

 

\----------------------------------

 

In the middle of the night, Derek slowly blinks awake, stretching in the cool darkness. He suddenly hears a whimper coming from the adjacent room and stops mid-stretch, every sense on edge. _Stiles_ , he thinks, mind racing and imagining the worst possibilities. Silently, he sits up and pads through the hallway, straining to hear more. The second he sees Stiles, he freezes. Stiles is spread out naked all over the length of the bed, head flung back and eyes shut, fingers lightly circling the base of his cock. A spike of lust catches Derek in the chest and he slumps softly against the doorframe, hyperaware of everything around him. He hears the jackrabbit beating of Stiles’ heart, the hitching of Stiles’ breath as he massages the head of his cock, _god,_ he smells like sex and Derek can tell that he’s leaking pre-come everywhere.

“Fuck,” Stiles whimpers quietly, lightly running his fingers down the length of his cock, thigh muscles twitching. He brings his other hand up and sucks his index and middle fingers into his mouth before drawing them back out and trailing them down to pinch at his nipples, eyes still closed. “Derek, fuck, please.”

Derek stands stock still for a second. _Derek, fuck, please_ , still ringing in his head. _Derek, fuck, please_. _Derek._

 _Derek_.

He crosses the room in three strides and grabs Stiles’ wrist. Stiles’ eyes fly open in panic. Derek doesn’t miss the way Stiles’ cock jerks before he curls in on himself, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Derek, fuck, please don’t kick me out—“

Derek surges forward and kisses Stiles roughly. Stiles stiffens against him for a second before moaning and licking into Derek’s mouth, teeth clacking and tongues intertwining, pulling on Derek’s shirt until he climbs on the bed on top of Stiles. Stiles automatically rolls his hips against Derek’s thigh and keens.

“Fuck, Stiles. You don’t know what you do to me,” Derek growls. Stiles grins and tugs Derek’s shirt and boxer briefs off, throwing them somewhere to the side of the bed. Derek places his hands on either side of Stiles’ head and slots their hips together, exhaling sharply at the pulse of pleasure.

Stiles, turning his head to the side, whimpers and brings one of Derek’s hands up to pin Stiles’ wrists above his head. “H-hold my— _fuck_ yes.”

“Yeah? Like this?” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ ear, squeezing Stiles’ wrists and grinding his hips down just to see Stiles’ eyes roll back in pleasure. “I think you need to be punished for leaking all over my sheets.”

Stiles lets out a shuddering breath and Derek feels Stiles’ cock jump. Derek immediately raises his body away from Stiles and places his hand on Stiles’ hip, his other hand still holding Stiles’ wrists in a vice grip. Stiles desperately strains his hips upwards, cock heavy, but Derek pushes down, keeping his hips still. “Fuck, Derek, oh my god,” Stiles moans, clenching and unclenching his hands.

Derek looks up into Stiles’ wild eyes, pupils blown wide. “I’m going to play with your pretty cock until you beg, and then I’m going to fuck you, understood?”

Stiles tilts his head to the side and whines, cock drooling steadily onto the growing puddle on his stomach. Derek licks a wet stripe along the expanse of Stiles’ neck and Stiles shudders.

“I’m going to let go of your hands. Keep them there,” Derek orders, and Stiles nods, shifting his hips. Derek licks his lips and slinks down, giving Stiles’ cock a quick stroke, enraptured by the way his stomach muscles jump under the pale skin, and then buries his nose at the base of Stiles’ cock and breathes in the salty musk and desire. Bringing his head back up, he trails his fingers over the shaft and scrapes a blunt fingernail over the leaking slit. Stiles’ whole body jerks.

“Sh-shit,” Stiles hisses, and grabs onto the headboard, knuckles white.

Derek’s eyes drift up to Stiles’ face, contorted with pleasure and frustration, as he continues to rub at the head of Stiles’ cock. Suddenly, he flicks the frenulum with his thumb and Stiles cries out, desperately struggling against Derek’s hand on his hip, trying to gain more friction on his cock.

“Derek,” Stiles sobs, tears of frustration forming at the corners of his eyes. “Please, Derek, more.”

“Shh, okay,” Derek soothes Stiles, wiping away the tear tracks with a thumb. “Be good.” He finally takes Stiles’ whole length in his hand and begins to stroke, leaning down to lick at the slit and relishing Stiles’ sudden convulsion. With his other hand, he gives himself a few quick pumps to take the edge off and hears Stiles moan, high-pitched, above him. He slides back up Stiles body and leans in close, rolling his hips down. “You want me to fuck you now, Stiles? Hm?” he groans into Stiles’ ear. “Gonna _fuck_ \--" he accentuates with a thrust, “you so hard, look so pretty on my cock.”

“Yes, oh my god, please, Derek,” Stiles whimpers, eyes rolling back.

“Please what?”

Stiles flushes and squirms under Derek’s body. “Please f-fuck me.”

“Good boy,” Derek growls, causing Stiles to flush even more. Taking in a few lungfuls of the heady air to steady himself, Derek leans over to the nightstand and takes out a small bottle of lube from the bottom drawer, then drizzles some onto to his fingers, warming it up before he rubs a finger against Stiles’ puckered hole. Stiles breathes out shakily and reaches down to stuff a pillow under his lower back, raising his ass and spreading his legs farther apart. Derek rubs Stiles’ inner thigh approvingly and slowly slides his middle finger into Stiles as Stiles moans in satisfaction. As soon as Stiles has adjusted to the finger and starts pushing down to meet Derek’s thrusts, Derek adds his index finger.  
  
“Yes,” Stiles moans, drawing out the word, his legs unconsciously falling open wider. Derek leans back, his own pleasure simmering in his lower belly, to admire the pretty picture that Stiles makes, cheeks pink with exertion, a blush spreading down his body, a slight shimmering of sweat, cock angry red and leaking. “Derek, another finger, please,” Stiles begs.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Derek responds, and slowly inserts another finger, watching the way Stiles’ hole swallows his fingers so nicely. He makes the mistake of imagining his cock in place of his fingers, and is struck by a jolt of lust so strong he has to reach down to grab the base of his cock with his other hand. “ _Fuck_ , Stiles.”

Derek probes inside of Stiles with his fingers and is rewarded when his middle finger gently strokes a small bump. Stiles cries out hoarsely and his cock jumps against his lower stomach again. “Oh god, Derek, fuck. I need your cock, like, right now,” Stiles babbles.

Derek blows out a shaky breath and pulls out his fingers, watching Stiles’ hole flutter and clench around the space left behind. He reaches over and uncaps the lube, shuddering as he drizzles the cold lube over his oversensitized cock. He gives it a few tugs and lines up with Stiles’ hole, bringing his body up and boxing in Stiles’ head with his forearms, and then slowly sinks his cock into Stiles. “Fuck,” he moans as slick heat grips his cock and he bottoms out, closing his eyes.

He hears a shaky whisper, “Oh my fucking god,” and when his eyes fly open, concerned, he sees Stiles, head thrown back, back arched, _like a fucking porn star_ , Derek suddenly thinks, breathless. “Move,” Stiles weakly demands, rocking his hips back and forth. Derek pulls out slowly, then suddenly thrusts back in, both of them groaning in unison. Soon, the musky air is filled with sounds of skin slapping together and broken moans as Derek’s mind goes blank with pleasure.

“Derek, fuck, _fuck_ , I’m so close,” Stiles chants, burying one hand in Derek’s hair and reaching down with the other toward his cock. Derek bats his hand away and Stiles keens in disappointment before returning it to Derek’s hair.

“You can come just like this,” Derek orders.

“No, no, I can’t, Derek, _please_ , I’m so close,” Stiles moans frantically, thrashing his head from side to side.

“Yes you can, Stiles. Feel so _fucking_ amazing around my cock, you’ve been so good for me, haven’t you?” Derek grunts, feeling pleasure coiling up in his stomach. “Come for me.” He bends his head down, presses his lips to Stiles’ throat, and snakes his tongue out to lick his pulse point.

Stiles cries out, squeezing his eyes shut, tears escaping at the corners, and comes. His body shakes violently, fists clenching and pulling in Derek’s hair. Sharp pain mixing with pleasure, Derek groans unsteadily, pounding into Stiles’ wet heat, and his hips jerk out of rhythm as white-hot coils spread to his stomach, then to his chest, and into the base of his throat, and it builds and builds and fuck, _fuck_ , and suddenly his sight explodes into white as he comes, shaking with its intensity.

As he blinks back into the real world, he sees Stiles, sated and grinning dopily, below him, and he smiles back before easing out of Stiles’ hole, the both of them shuddering with oversensitivity. He collapses next to Stiles with an exhausted exhale, turning his head to look at Stiles.

“So,” Stiles slurs. “That was incredible and I wanna do that every day, holy shit.” He pauses. “Uh, I mean, if you’re--”

“I am,” Derek interrupts.

Stiles lets out a relieved breath of laughter. “Thank god. Goodnight, my number one crush,” he mumbles, drifting asleep.

Derek gazes at Stiles, transfixed, before softly replying, “Goodnight, my number one crush.”


End file.
